


The rose in her hair

by codexumbra



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game), Don’t Starve Together
Genre: F/F, both charlie and willow are hit with feelings, the maxwil is implied but its there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 20:55:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19483861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/codexumbra/pseuds/codexumbra
Summary: Willow knew the darkness. Empty, dangerous, deadly, unrelenting.No one told her that it was so beautiful.





	The rose in her hair

Footsteps, brisk and excited, marked the venture of two black-haired friends, consistency of said prints sometimes interrupted by small elephant shaped prints.

“No, no! Hear me out Willow, I’m serious!” the scientist shook his head, holding onto the straps of his backpack before bouncing it a little to readjust the way it rubbed into his back. The girl with the pigtails shook her head, popping a berry into her mouth. She glanced at the way he examined her face for permission to continue before she snickered. “Go ahead, Wilson. I’m superrrr interested.”

“Ohhh, come on! Could you at least act like you care about what I’m talking about?” he dropped his arms from their resting spot on the straps of his backpack in defeat, eyeing up the empty eyed girl for a reaction. All she did was scoff before flicking a berry ahead of her. “I’ve been listening to you talk about how shitty the camp layout is this whole trip. Can I get one break?” A smirk slid across her face. “Complain to your _boyfriend_ instead, huh?” She got the reaction she was hoping for when Wilson’s face turned beet red and he stopped in his place. In realizing her game, he ran back up to her to catch up with her pace. “HEY! Hey! We’re not-“ he sighed. “We’re not like that, we-“ “Yet.” Silence.

”W..What, Willow?” he shook his head in embarrassed confusion. “Not like that YET, I said.” She glanced his way and cackled at how mystified he looked. The odd haired man spoke up, raising his voice. “No, no! There’s no guarantee us trying out stuff will lead to ANYTHING serious, Willow! I mean that..” he relaxed a little, sighing and letting his arms fall to his side instead of white-knuckling the poor rucksack straps. The girl shrugged. “Don’t say I never predicted it.” The man groaned. “Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I-“ before he could continue, Willow reached a hand over to ruffle his hair. He gasped in shock before she laughed. “Good! This is fun and all but we have GOT to hurry up. We’re speed walking and we’ve still got two biomes to truck through.” Then she paused, as if someone had just thrown a small rock at the back of her head. Wilson paused as well, studying her face. “Willow?”

Then the firestarter narrowed her eyes and like a child to their sibling, she smirked before saying two words that made nearly everyone, _especially_ Wilson, break into at least a speed walk. 

“ _Race ya’._ ”

And she took off. Like merms running from pigs or grass geckos darting away from tentacles, her feet hit the ground. Wilson stopped dead when she did and she was already getting into her groove when he yelled out a “WAIT!” and panicked to make sure everything was in order. And as the sun began to set and the sky became a bright orange Wilson hurriedly ‘fixed’ his hair, re-situated his backpack, picked up Chester and began to run the same way she did. 

When the two found themselves on equal footing once again, they landed in a marsh biome. Willow stood with her hands on her hips, a confident nose stuck up and breathing heavy in the afternoon air. Wilson stood next to her, crouched. His hands were on his knees, his face looking at the disgustingly fleshy marsh ground. He breathed through his mouth like a fish out of water. “Oh my god. I’m gonna be sick-“ he stopped complaining to take a huge breath in. Willow took her hands off of her hips and looked at him, studying his form with a closed mouth smile. Then she spoke. “Come on, dummy! We’ve got this wholeeee biome before we reach camp!” she gave him a hard smack on the back, making him fall forward a little and stick his hands out to catch himself. Chester stood next to him, panting. Wilson turned to look at him, still bent. “Why’re you panting? I held you the whole time!” He smiled while jokingly chiding the monster, though his breathing through his nose was still harsh. 

Willow snickered after watching the scene. When she looked up, her eyes landed on the sun. The sky was a dark orange. It was beautiful, truthfully. Then it hit her. She looked at Wilson. “You have stuff for a fire, right?” 

Wilson looked up at her, his eyes moving away from Chester. He stood up fully. “What’d’ya say?” “A _fire_ dummy! Do you have stuff for a fire?” She examined his expression, which looked miffed before he rubbed his chin, furrowing his brows. Then he smiled. “Oh, yeah! I’m sure we do. I’ve got food in my bag and I put the resources in Chester!” he admired his own genius before getting to his knees and tapping the little animal’s head which lead it to open its’ mouth. Being how dark it was, Wilson grimaced as he blindly shoved his hands in the depths that were Otto Von Chesterfield, Esq. Rummaging with his hand, he felt nothing.

He stuck another hand in. Nothing. Then he pulled both of those out and nearly stuck his head in before Willow got to her knees and gave him a little push. When he moved, she shoved a frantic hand into the monster’s gullet. She felt around. Charcoal. Log armor. Pinecones. A pickaxe. The lack of the course texture of grass or the rough texture of wood was alarming. Then it hit her. Her lighter! She took her hand out of Chester while she looked up and mumbled multiple pleas to the darkening sky before shoving her hand in her shirt pocket. 

There it was. Their saving grace. Her lighter. She said a loud “Aha!”, almost yelling. Wilson watched her the whole time as her shaky hand snatched the rusted lighter out of her shirt pocket. One flick, nothing. She tried again. A small spark. Again. a small spark. Again. Nothing. She could hear her best friend’s breath quicken, making her 10x more frantic. Chester was yanked toward the scientists’ chest like he could do anything to protect it against the shadows. “No, no, no no no no-“ Willow swallowed and kept trying. Wilson looked around as the sky began to darken. The two of them met eyes. “Willow?” Wilson spoke. Willow swallowed. “Uh-huh?” 

“Have we seen any touchstones?”

Willow stared at him as the dark enveloped the two of them. She had been killed before- but never by the darkness. She had been torn limb by limb by the hounds. She had her head blown off by a Bishop. She had seen the same thing happen to others at camp. Winona being swarmed by spiders, her and Webber arriving just in time to see it. Wortox being burnt to a crisp by the Dragonfly, the embers burning small holes in Wendy’s shirt. Wilson being crushed to death by the mother tallbirds, weakly jabbing them with the spear before going limp. Maxwell being gored by the Rook, it’s horn going straight through his stomach. She had seen it all. But never darkness. 

It was never darkness. Wickerbottom was the only one who had been close, but she made it to camp by the thin of a hair. They always made sure that those going out had enough for at LEAST 3 torches. So why didn’t the two of them? Simply, Willow wanted to make a fire the first night- not a torch. The sticks and the grass were used as fuel. 

The regret hit her as she saw the last glimpse of her best friend, his head buried in Chester’s fluff. It was pitch black. Willow’s eyes clamped shut. What did corpses that had been assaulted by darkness look like? She prepared for unimaginable pain; a gruesome cry from the man beside her. 

A thud. Chester’s panting was heard. When she opened her eyes, she saw Wilson’s body laying limp. His shallow breathing was audible, though. She swallowed and examined his figure. Chester sat protected under his limp left arm. Their breathing shocked her, but she wasn’t happy. Why wasn’t she dealt with?

The fear of turning around hit Willow harder than a freight train when she felt the soft warmth of a newly lit light behind her. It was warm, but not comforting. Her form shook. She was overcome with the urge to cry as she turned to look at her company. A tear fell from the firestarter’s eyes. 

When she had turned around, the light got brighter. Her eyes trailed up a shapely form, the material looking like that of a dress. A silken gown- a beautifully sheer black color. Her eyes grew wider as she made eye contact. It was a woman. Pale skin and beautifully kept hair. Her eyes were calm. She wasn’t smiling. Her face looked neutral; not dull. She was angelic. A rose that was stuck in her sorted hair was the only thing brash about her darkened clothing. 

She had never seen a woman so beautiful. So sorted. She kept her eyes trained on her face; the initial tears that had rolled down her cheek felt childish now. The woman that stood so comfortably in the darkness moved and was soon bent down to Willow’s level. Face to face now, the two women were at a confrontational distance. But that wasn’t what was happening. The girl in ponytails felt a gloved hand move up to touch her face. The woman smiled as she cupped her cheek and rubbed a loving, familiar thumb below her eye. Willow leaned forward. What was she doing? They had just met. She didn’t know her name. 

Willow felt a ghost of the woman’s lips before she lost all balance, the hand left her cheek and she fell face forward into the mushy, slimy ground of the marsh. She struggled to push herself out of the ground, her legs flailing in the process and she gave the man sleeping behind her a good kick to the face, which startled him enough to make him sit up with a jump and look around frantically. The firestarter heard him scream her name before she heard him scurry to her side. She pushed herself free of the marsh floor and the release made her fling her head back and hit Wilson’s nose. 

“OW!” the young man yelled and held onto his nose. “Oh, shit! Are you okay?” Willow turned her head to look at him, her reflexes quick. Wilson looked at her after taking his hand away from his nose only to find a small bit of blood on his sweaty palm. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine-“ he wiped his hand on his pants. “What about you, though? What the hell happened? How are we alive?” he looked shocked. Baffled. Willow could have told him everything. Should she? She felt it wouldn’t be right. She opened her mouth to spit out some flimsy lie about fireflies or Chester giving off a little bit of light until she heard voices calling from the other side of the biome. 

The two sat up straight, Chester panting next to Wilson’s thigh. The voices called again. It was then that the two saw them- Winona, Maxwell, Woodie and Wendy (Abigail in close pursuit). Wilson’s eyes lit up and he gave an uncharacteristically high pitched “MAX!” as he ran to his partner, who, also uncharacteristically, opened his arms to give Wilson a “welcome back” hug. 

Willow took her eyes off of the two and they fell to Winona and Woodie, who were headed her way. Maxwell and Wilson had grabbed Wendy’s attention. Willow pressed her hand on the ground to push herself up, her digits sinking in a tad. She felt something below her palm, though. Her eyes trailed up to the fat of a rose and she lifted up her hand to see a dark green stem, yellowish dots showing her that it had been cut clean of its once foreboding thorns. 

It hit her all at once. The woman she had seen the night before had a lovely rose in her hair. A blood red, prim rose. Willow swallowed and hurriedly shoved it in her backpack that she had slung off of her arm in last night’s torch fit. Then she grabbed it just in time for Woodie and Winona to finish their walk to her spot. 

“Hey, Willow! Sure are glad we came lookin’ for you two, ey?” Woodie laughed a little, Lucy held tight in one hand while the other rested on his hip. Winona smiled at the girl sitting on the ground. “We came all the way through this slimy ass biome for you two! You’ve been gone for 3 days, now. I hope the stuff we gave you for the torches lasted you the whole way. Ya’ll look fine!” and she beamed. Woodie nodded. Then he nudged Winona. “We gotta get goin’. Headin’ back with us, Willow?” The two looked at her expectantly.

Willow looked behind them a little, her eyes focused on Wilson and Maxwell. Then she looked back at the two before swallowing and smiling. “I’ll head back a little bit later. I’m gonna gather up some reeds.” Bullshit, really. But it satisfied the two’s need for an explanation. As they walked back to the other three and Willow waved bye to Wilson, she sat on the slimy floor of the marsh, her knees coated in what felt like mucus. 

When the others were gone, she let out an exasperated groan and slapped her hands over her face. She’s tricked herself into no longer using torches. 

Was that woman a hallucination? A way to disguise a horrid beast as a mechanism for coping with copious amounts of stress? Maybe.

But she’s never seen a hallucination so pretty.


End file.
